Chapter Text
Genny sat at his oaken table, sulking over the weight of the air, the sway of the world. Ships were by far his least favourite mode of transportation, making him sick and seeming to serve no purpose but to get him away from his home. But they were the only way across the Great Sea, and so Genny accepted it, trying to focus on his numbers.
Ten vials of glowstone dust. Six crates of redstone. Another crate filled with pouches of cactus dye, and another again filled with iron swords. A smattering of paintings he had acquired as a gift. Six barrels of heavily salted mutton. Three chests of iron ingots, two of unrefined diamond ore, one of carefully packed and sealed inkwells. A sack of rabbits feet, and another of their pelts. A few stacks of woolen blankets. All was in order; Genny gently closed the thick old book in which he kept inventory before pulling out a pouch, and something that was more of a bag. One held emeralds, the currency Genny preferred, and the larger bag diamonds, the currency of the land he now traveled to. He began counting the emeralds. Each one was crudely but surely crafted, a small, uniform symbol carved on their front faces, and they were about the size of the last digit of Genny's thumb. They shone under candle light,
"1... 2... 4... 5... 10..." He muttered to himself, gathering piles of the gems. Quickly the total came out to 128. Most of his wealth would be back at his home, this was simply pocket change; and 128 was a good, lucky number, Genny thought. His business in the other land would go well, it boded. He numbered the larger diamonds more quickly, each one fitting snugly in his fist, their amount less, and less important.
With all of the numbers checking out, the hermit made out to retire. The ship was not cheap - a swift beast called Glydia - and Genny’s cabin was large because of it. Some meters from the desk was a bed of wool, and Genny was grateful his day would end with no more encounters with the Captain, or worse, the ships rowdy crew. The old merchant hobbled to his bed and layed down, trying to forget about meagerness of the floor separating him from deep, deep waters.
An uneventful week later, and it was over. Genny oversaw the ship' crew as they unloaded his cargo, moving it to carts pulled by horses, and as usual he said as little to the captain as possible. Beside him was Anders, a burly sell-sword who had been taking emeralds from Genny for years now, and who was nearly always at his side. The merchant’s bones ached from the journey, and he hoped to find an inn soon.
A market sprawled behind the port, haphazardly situated on a gentle but present hill, mostly populated by fishermen or other, poorer merchants. Even Genny's haul, though smaller in amount than usual, would net him more diamonds than those stalls' wares. Oh yes, diamonds. Genny thought it an odd thing to trade materials over a true currency, but he could not change the way of a kingdom,
"Excuse me!" he called, smiling, to a passing man in a flour-dusted apron. He looked a little rushed, and had a lumpy sack slung over one shoulder,
"Me?" The man asked, glancing behind himself. His voice jumped in pitch, cracking,
"Yes! You look like a chef, am I right?"
"I'm the castle cook, in fact," The man confirmed proudly. Genny grinned back,
"That’s great!" well, there were worse jobs, at any rate, "would you be interested in some mutton? It's only cuts of the best quality," the cook made a face,
"So you're from across the sea? Sorry, I don't think any of the lords here are fans of sheep meat, especially not from a voyage,"
"Are you sure? A diamond a barrel, you won't find a better price for meat, - I guarantee it," the cook glanced at the barrels, making a second face,
"Sorry guy, I don't even carry that around with me," Genny inwardly sighed, although outwardly he didn't break his upbeat character. Regardless, the man with access to the King's food was a valuable contact indeed,
"It's not a problem at all. Might I get your name?"
"Beef Vintage, sir,"
"Genny Erik,” Genny took the man’s hand and shook it vigorously, “Great to meet ya!” and the cook was on his way.
The merchant had other reasons for visiting the kingdom besides trade. It would seem that the crown had, for one reason or another, borrowed some amount of wealth from Genny; in fact, while he still had a great store of emeralds, he was near broke of diamonds, and that was never a comfortable place to be. Yet, the port was far from the castle, wagon or no, and the ship ride had left Genny deeply tired, and so, he sought out the nearest inn. It wasn’t difficult; once past the market against the water, true tall buildings of cobblestone and timber rose from the ground, and perhaps the 6th or 7th had a sign hanging outside proclaiming it as an “Inn”. Genny looked back at the boxes and bags loaded on the cart, and at Anders. He would need more protection. He struggle down from the cart and stepped inside the inn. Tables and chairs and people were scattered inside, most every one holding an ale, and the noise from chatter drove into Genny’s skull. Raising his voice, he announced,
"I bring wealth for any man who would protect my wares," A half-silence fell over the common room, and some gruff looking man called back,
"Diamond?"
"A vial of glowstone dust, a valuable resource," Genny let his voice run up and down, as it always did when he tried to sell something, but any of the men who were warriors had no need of the alchemical ingredient, not to Genny's surprise. Reluctantly - for he had very few - the merchant was about to offer diamond, when a man cloaked in black stood from a table,
"What kind of protection do you need?" His voice sounded scratchy, low, and amused; his hair was short and dark brown, and a U-shaped beard bordered his face,
"Just for some carts, overnight," Genny looked at the other suspiciously, as he began to close the gap between them, dodging tables and drunkards,
"Nebris Snow-man, at your service," Nebris shook Genny's hand heartily, and again the noise rose as patrons of the tavern began focusing on their own matters again, "A vial of glowstone dust you said?" Genny nodded, looking the man over. First of all he was entranced by deep, violet eyes, as bright as any enderman. But second he saw that the man had no armour or weapon to be seen,
"Don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t look like the type to be guarding nothing,” The strange man smiled at him,
“People around here wouldn’t challenge me. I fight for justice, and justice doesn’t fail,”
“Justice is great, but I’m gonna need some real proof that you can fight,”
“A man doesn’t need to display his weapons,” Genny was unimpressed; Nebris rolled his eyes, “An enchanted dagger, see? And potions,” Nebris lifted his robe; underneath, at his hip and on a leather belt, was a gleaming diamond blade, alongside several bottles. Some had curved necks, indicating splash potions,
“Fair enough,” Genny succumbed, “Outside are my carts. There should be a big man with them already. Mess with me and you answer to him,” Nebris seemed taken aback by the threat,
“Noted. I thank you,” The man was off, his dark gray doublet flaring when he turned. Genny stood for a second, questioning his decision, before he ordered an ale.
After the first ale came a second, but Genny didn’t drink beyond that. He knew his limit, and with wealth like his he daren't get too inebriated. Besides, he was still tired. On his way up to the room he paid for, someone stopped him with a tap on his shoulder,
"Hey-" Genny turned back around to face the source of the low greeting. A man was there, with distinct silvery hair and two mismatched eyes,
"Uh, hi?" Crimson and navy. What was with this continent and odd eyes?
"Do- do you know who you hired?" The stranger asked, speaking quickly, glancing side to side. Genny had to wonder if he was drunk,
"You mean that Nebris character?"
"Yes. You-you don't know him? Of him?" The squeak of his voice reminded Genny of the cook he had met,
"Not more than I do of most sells swords,"
"Well, just, be aware. People say he's a black mage, and I-"
"Oh really, is this because I'm a hermit?" People on this side of the sea always assumed the worse about those on or from the other side, the so-called hermits. The other's eyes widened,
"No! No, it's about him not you, look- why else would he want glowstone?" Seeing more closely, Genny noted the scars on the stranger’s face - one went across the crimson eye, another on his lip, a couple across his cheekbone. His eyes were creased in what looked to be sincere worry. Genny relaxed again,
“Well, I thank you for the warning. So long as he uses his magic for me, however, all should be well,” The other looked grim, but surrendered,
“Alright. S-sorry to bother you,” he ducked away. Genny continued up the steps, hoping for a featherbed.